


As Simple As

by Atanih88



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-19
Updated: 2011-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-27 13:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atanih88/pseuds/Atanih88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's New Year's Eve and Sam's plans don't work out so well. Dean's okay with that and maybe Sam is too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Simple As

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gestaltrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gestaltrose/gifts).



> Dear gestaltrose, I wasn't sure which of your prompts to pick so I went for a combination of your kinks and your last prompt: Ice, a forest, and a fire- pairing or gen as you'd like. I hope you enjoy this, it's a bit quiet but hopefully you'll like it even if only a little :) Merry Christmas ♥ Written as a pinch-hit, part of the [2011 spn_j2_xmas exchange](http://spn-j2-xmas.livejournal.com/).

Sam's already standing outside of the school, shoulders braced against the bricks of the building as Dean pulls up. He's got his hoodie over his head. There's a soft rain falling and it's leaving a light spray over front screen of the Impala, the yellow light from the street lamps catching in the raindrops there.

Sam's head is down but Dean knows that lanky shape, thinks, even as he pulls the car over, how the hell it was possible for someone to shoot up that much over the Summer. Funny thing is that he doesn't remember Sam getting that tall. One day he woke up and just looked up, and up. And Sam was different. He hadn't really noticed it happening.

Sam looks up a, careful of the rain when Dean pulls up beside him. Dean reaches across and opens the door to the other side.

The sound of the party going on inside the building fills the car briefly, drowning out the radio that Dean has on low, more static than anything. Then Sam is sliding into the car, long legs not as awkward as they used to be, pushing the hood from his face as he settles in the opposite side.

Dean makes no move to pull back out of the parking lot, just stars at his brother and waits. There's a nasty scrape on Sam's left cheek and a cut just under the eye and he's not looking at Dean, just staring out, mouth tight and brooding. Dean looks beyond him and at the building where the party is still taking place. The lights are changing from green to blue to pink to yellow. Dean thinks if he'd been in that for more than half an hour it might have just made him want to put a fist in someone's face.

"You okay Sammy?"

Sam nods once, short and sharp, jaw tightening and pressing further into the seat, as if trying to curl in tighter on himself.

"You su—"

"I'm _fine_ , Dean."

Dean sighs, shakes his head at that and puts the Impala into gear, drives away from the bright place, the sounds from the school fading away. The lights grow few and far between when they hit the main road and Dean knowing this particular song and dance, leans forward to turn the dial up, letting the old rock classic fill the silence.

On their way out of town they pass groups of people, gathered together, spilling out of doorways, flutes of champagne in their hands. It's not long until midnight now. Everyone decked out in their best clothes and some even, with genuine smiles on their faces, a completely different world from the one in the car with him and Sammy. A completely different world to his and Sam's in general. Dean doesn't like to think about it too hard.

They leave that behind, the houses giving way to ice and snow. Sam slumps down in his seat, rests his head against the window pane. He's not even bitching about the music or demanding to know where dad is. Dean's not very good at these silences, can't do anything other than keep darting his gaze between the road and his brother as the clean lines of snow are broken up by the trees..

Trust their dad to find the deepest holes anywhere and leave them to it.

By the time the snow stops Dean's turning the car into the piss poor trail. The Impala bumps over the uneven ground, the sound of wheels turning and pushing through slush audible over the sound of the engine and the music in the car. Sam sits up then, rubbing a hand over his face and glancing over at Dean as the small house comes into view.

It's not the worst place they've stayed in and after dad's last hunt had gone south they'd had to make themselves scarce for a little while, drop off the map until their faces disappeared from the system. Especially Sammy's.

The last thing they needed was social services stepping in to fuck their life up even more.

The tree shadows crawl over the Impala, taking away the light from the lights lining the road and Dean gets that distinct feeling, like they're being closeted, shutting doors behind them until it's just them.

It's a small place, not much at all. Dean's just glad the fire he left on hadn't burnt down the entire place. He slows the Impala into a stop and switches off the ignition, cutting the woman talking over the radio off mid-sentence. He settles back, looks at Sam and waits.

"So? You gonna tell me or do I have to beat it out of you or something? Because, between you and me it looks like you've had enough." Although he's not particularly worried about that. However bad Sam looks, he's pretty sure the other guy looks worse. Sam doesn't pull punches when someone pisses him off.

Sam huffs, turns his head away but Dean can still see the side of his face, see his jaw working and for the first time he notices that the redness to Sam's skin isn't entirely from the swelling.

He frowns. "You been drinking?"

"Beer."

Right. Good thing Dad's not around. Dean's not really in the mood for the shouting match that would take place if Dad so much as smelled alcohol on him. Not that that was a usual worry. That was Dean's thing. Not Sam's.

"So. You call me to pick you up after bitching for a week about this party and then what? You drink and end up in a fight?"

"It wasn't like that."

Dean sighs. "Explain it to me, Sam."

"The girl I went with—her boyfriend didn't really like it."

"Oh." Dean blinks, not quite sure what to say to that. He licks his lips and tries anyway. "And you didn't know—"

Sam cuts a glare at him and folds his arms over his chest. "Of course _not_ , Dean."

Dean held up his hands. "Yeah, okay."

Sam looks away from him and his jaw's working even more now and Dean has the distinct impression he's just made things worse.

"So, uh, you were sweet on her, huh?"

Sam shrugs a shoulder.

"What about the boyfriend?"

"Broke his nose."

The grin splits Dean's face, big and wide and he reaches for Sam, grabs him in a choke hold and messes up his hair. Sam twists in his hold.

" _Dean!_ " And he's reaching back and grabbing Dean's head right back and then they're doing a weird sort of wrestling, cramped in the little space of the car and Sam's lying back against Dean, his hands locked behind Dean's neck like he's going to try to flip him over and the Impala is shaking under them.

They only stop when they've managed to shove each other into opposite corners of the car, breathing heavy and color high on their cheeks. Sam's frowning at Dean like he wants to be angry but he doesn't look as upset as he had earlier on and he stretches out a leg and kicks Dean once for good measure and quickly opens out the door, spilling onto the ground to evade retaliation when Dean lunges from him again.

The open door let's in a waft of cold air and Dean hisses and curses at it, muttering when Sam smiles then, wide and happy, head falling back and letting out a loud laugh that always hits Dean like a physical shock. It's a laugh that doesn't happen too often. It's dimples and squinting eyes, throat baring, the works and if Dean's eyes linger a little too long on the bare expanse of Sam's neck it's only because he's going through another one of those moments where he realizes that Sam has grown up too fast and Dean doesn't know what he was doing when it happened.

"Asshole," Dean mutters and opens his door too as Sam manages to get himself up off the floor, not even paying all that much attention the mud all over his ass.

He locks up the car and walks around to where Sam is still standing; watching him with a smile on his face, warmth there, easy and natural and Dean doesn't know how the hell that chick picked someone over his Sammy. Not when he can look like this, the weight dropping off his shoulders, the attitude forgotten for a few seconds to just let him be.

It's Sam that makes the nights Dad's away bearable. Sam doesn't smile like this anymore when Dad's around.

Sam doesn't even duck away when Dean wraps his arm around him again, just grips Dean's arms and keeps chuckling to himself, shaking his head a little as Dean pushes him towards the house.

"I think I like this better anyway," Sam says, and Dean glances up at him, and yeah that pisses him off a little that he has to actually force Sam to his height in order to be able to meet his eyes without looking up. The smile on Sam's face has softened a bit as they start up the steps, all disjointed and mismatched. Their hips knock together and Dean let's go, let's Sam walk ahead of him.

Sam stops in front of the door. The fire place still lit up inside is a warm glow against the windows. He tucks his hands into his pockets, little white clouds spilling out of his lips as he breathes. His head is cocked to the side and he's looking at Dean as Dean pauses on the top step.

"Yeah?" Dean's mouth quirks up. Yeah, that makes him feel good.

Sam nods, drops his head, swallowing. He kicks at the porch lightly. "When it's you and me." He shrugs. "It's not so bad."

He doesn't mention Dad and that makes Dean feel a little guilty for the little possessive spark he feels, pride and something else, something he recognizes instinctively as too deep for him to wade into. So he does what he does best, gives Sam a cocky smirk and reaches over to ruffle his hair again, only grinning wider when Sam slaps his hand away and scowls.

"I gotta say I'm flattered Sam, but if it was a choice between making out right on into New Year's with a hot chick or go and freeze my ass off in some dump with my brother, not sure I would've chosen the same, Sammy." _Liar_.

At that any amusement leaves Sam's face until he's just watching Dean, eyes sober and narrowed.

Then Sam pulls his hand back out of his pocket, glances down at the watch on his wrist. "I guess you're right," he murmurs, and looks up at Dean, "happy New Year Dean."

The air of ease that had been there only seconds before has disappeared, leaving an odd silence in its wake. Dean nods and walks to the door and pats Sam's shoulder as he goes. "Yeah. You too, Sammy." He pulls out the key and opens the door.

He feels the warmth of the house against his face first, taking away the chill that had settled in the bolts of his jaw.

Sam's hand, long fingers that are scuffed over the knuckles, close over Dean's arm, stopping him before he gets past the door way and Dean looks over his shoulder.

Sam's face is way too close.

The jerk back is instinctive and he swears when his head knocks into the doorframe, opens his eyes in a glare, mouth already curling into a snarl only for the words to be knocked back into his throat when really soft lips touch his. He stares at Sam's calm, assessing eyes, sees every fleck of green in them as Sam's breath fans warm over his skin while Sam's mouth clings to his, just a little damp, like he'd licked his lips before putting them on Dean's. It's a little off center, covering the corner of Dean's mouth and Sam's got a hand over Dean's head, planted there, body angled towards him.

It's nothing more than a press of mouths. But then Sam's eyes flutter closed and he tilts his head to the side a little and Dean parts lets his mouth open under Sam's, reaching for Sam's hip with an uncertain hand. He tastes the beer, bitter but faded—but it's overwhelmed anyway by the feel of Sam's tongue rubbing over his.

Dean's hand leaves Sam's hip and reaches to grab onto his shoulder. He fists the t-shirt there in his hand, squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. He thinks of how Sam's throat had looked outside, with his head back and laughing and happy. His hand shifts to the back of Sam's head and he slants his mouth over Sam's and slides on in. Sam smiles against his mouth, a small quick flick up of his mouth as he presses against Dean.

When Sam breaks the kiss, he steps back, gaze slipping away from Dean as he shoves his hands back in his pockets and steps into the house.

"You think there are any movies on?"

Dean stares at the cigarette burns on the opposite side of the door frame. He can feel the warmth of the house on one side, the cold of the outside on the other. He clears his throat and nods. But Sam's not looking at him so Dean turns to look at him. He stares at Sam's wide back. He comes to the realization that Sam's nowhere near done growing.

The thought leaves him feeling off kilter, a cold sticky feeling in his stomach. But he can still feel Sam on his mouth and he licks his lips.

"Yeah. I think so."

Sam looks at him then, the smile on his face a little nervous but real.

Dean steps into the house and shuts the cold out.

For now, Sam's happy. That's all Dean needs.


End file.
